Tag: advice

Forbearance

MissM5 Comments

I had my personality professionally dissected and labeled today, (Don’t ask-long story) and I learned some very valuable nuggets of information about the way I’m “wired.”

First of all, aforementioned professional diagnosed me with an “avoidant” personality type, in regards to my relationships to other people. This means that I am the type of person who prefers minimal contact with my few loved ones. A human with an avoidant personality doesn’t necessarily want to be around people in which they have relations to on a frequent basis. They like their space. They feel overwhelmed when people try to get close to them too fast and are frequent ignorers when reached out to.

My, my, my, this professional really knows her stuff. This personality type just so happens to describe me to a tee. I hate being around other people. Alone time is BLISS. I typically end up pissed off or frustrated after interactions with my fellow human beings.

And that most likely explains why I spend the majority of my evenings wrapped up in a burrito of blankets, cradling my Mac, and producing pointless blog posts about my uneventful existence with my faithful sidekick, Fred the Abnormally Large Cat, by my side.

Also, it means i’m probably gonna die alone.

In other news… Gay marriage is finally legal in Utah! Wahoo! Reddest state in the nation for the win.

Oh, and also, apparently seasonal squashes are gendered now, according to the asshat in my Creative Writing class who asked “what is it with you females and your obsession with pumpkin spice during the month of October?”

M.

Lucubrate

MissM6 Comments

I am in a particularly difficult stage of my life. Nothing makes sense. I’m right on the threshold of adulthood, but not quite there yet. Plans change by the second. Nothing feels right.

However, the hardships of this weirdish-almost-adultish state of existence, provide excellent opportunities for learning frustrating, reality-check giving life lessons. Here’s a few i’ve learned lately:

1. I am thoroughly convinced that moving out of my parents’ home will solve 99.4% of my problems. 

Before you slap a label on my disproportionately large forehead that reads, “Snobby, Spoiled, Over-privileged, Ungrateful Brat Whose Daddy Gives Her Everything,” check yourself before you wreck yourself. Then explain to me how you managed to fit so much writing on such a little label. And then hear me out.

One of my greatest growing concerns in my own life is being dependent on other people. I am a lone she-wolf. OWWWWW.

Seriously, though. All I want is to be able to take care of myself completely on my own. I acknowledge that I am nowhere near realizing this goal, but moving out would be a huge leap towards becoming Miss Independent. There is nothing I desire more than to be the dirt-poor girl in the tiniest, hole-in-the-wall apartment with thrift shop furniture and a budget just large enough to sustain life. It’s not even about feminism or having something to prove. I just want a modest place to call my very own-a place secluded from family and friends unless I choose otherwise.

On the other hand, i’m not exactly equipped to take care of myself entirely just yet. I moved out my first semester of college to a faraway land (well, about 350 miles away), and, long story short, I lost 10 pounds and took 2 trips to the E.R. over the span of 4 months. This occurrence should not be disregarded when it comes down to “should I stay or should I go?”

2.. Even if I survived on the thriftiest of diets (we’re talking ramen-noodle and cans of generic spaghetti-o’s) there is no way in hell I will ever be able to afford a place of my own. 

I am a very modest girl with a very modest-paying job. Turns out $700 a month is about 1/4th the income I need to get an apartment of my own with out a damn “cosigner.” Needing a cosigner makes me co-dependent and that makes me want to vomit.

Then there’s utility costs, which is a load of bullshit on its own.

3. When you’re done, it’s time to quit. 

Yesterday, I had a bad day. It was significantly worse than my typical bad days. I broke. My own papa taught me something very valuable that evening; when you’ve had enough, it’s time to pop an Ambien and watch New Girl until you fall into a deep, drug-induced slumber.

4. If Exercise Endorphins aren’t doing the trick, Comfort Food Endorphins sure will. 

Nothing makes me feel like an invincible warrior quite like a 4.5 mile run on the treadmill, fueled by Fall Out Boy and the current day’s rage. But even after that, the persistent Blues can proceed to cling to your back and weigh me down.

Fortunately, we have Molten Lava Chocolate Cake to remedy that.

5. When People Say, ‘I Care About You,’ Let Them. 

Probably due to my independent nature, I don’t allow other people to help me with my problems. I let my frustrations bottle up and attempt (in vain) to solve them on my own until I simply burn out. It’s probably a pride issue, but I need to let other people care about me sometimes. It’s a work-in-progress.

6. We All Have Problems

My problems aren’t any more or less significant than my peers. We all have plenty issues, but some of us are just better at coping with them. I prefer the “break down and bawl under my covers until I feel like my problems can’t find me” method. Other people choose the “be a reasonable, mature adult and push through it because it’s not going anywhere” method.

Hey, i’m learning.

I am quite the hot mess, my friends.

M.

Chivalry

MissMLeave a comment

So I went on a date last night with a BABE of a young gentleman. We had a killer good time at my favorite sushi place and then catching a movie afterward. And this one even came to my house to pick me up! (My last “eligible” suitor did not have a car, which is totally fine, except for the fact that the reason he didn’t have a car was because he was living in a sobriety home and failed to mention that in our entire 3 weeks of seeing each other. That’s a story for another day.) Anyway, despite the rain outside, this young man got out of his car and ran all the way around to open the passenger door for me. What a gentleman, right? Right.

I appreciate the gesture, I really do. But really, it would have been faster and more efficient for me to simply jog to the car whilst covering my hair with my jacket (to avoid having a frizzy mane for the rest of the evening) and use one of my four limbs to open the door by myself. It feels awkward to wait for someone to open your door for you, and they always do that little jog before grabbing the handle. It would have been a thousand times faster and easier for everyone if I just did it myself.

I understand that boys are taught from a very young age to respect girls and hold doors open for them, etc. And I totally think that if it’s going to help someone out, or if you’re going through that door anyway, you should hold the door open for a fellow chap. NO MATTER THE GENDER.

It doesn’t have to be a guy’s obligation to hold the door open for a lady. Girls, we can do that, too. I know that this is a minuscule issue, but I find it quite bothersome. It’s a door for heaven’s sake. Pull it open, hold it for the people behind you, and then walk in yourself. That’s the most convenient, swift way to do it.

Y’know what else is annoying? Girls that wait in the car for the guy to walk all the way around and open their door for them just to get out. Really? You can get out of your own car just fine when you’re driving by yourself. The only difference here is that the door is on your opposite side. So help yourself out. You can do it, I promise.

Speaking of doors, don’t you hate it when you’re like ten yards away from a door and some sweetie pie decides to hold the door and wait for you to finally get to it? Now you’re the one doing the awkward, little jog. That’s a separate issue, though.

Anyway, that’s how I feel about that. I appreciate it, guys. Thanks for being courteous. But if it is really that inconvenient and out of your way, don’t worry about it. I can get the door myself. I have two perfectly functioning hands with opposable thumbs. I got it. It doesn’t make you any less respectful of a dude.

That’s all for now.

Happy Friday, darlings.(: